For the Actual Good
by Hexell
Summary: They thought nothing could be as bad as Umbridge. They were wrong. Faced with a new headmistress disaster in the post-war peace, Hermione must choose her allies and pick her fights. And organise a bit of a coup. And manipulate. And kiss Draco Malfoy as often as she can. Rated for language and mature situations. AU after Dumbledore's death, HG/DM, occasional OOC, WIP.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi, this is hardly the first time I'm writing fanfiction, but I haven't done it in a while and I feel I'm a bit rusty. Do let me know what you think. Flame away if you feel like it, just be aware I won't bother to reply if that is the case. Any other type of comment is welcome and encouraged.

Fair warnings: there is a lot of swearing in this. There are explicit sex scenes. A lot of the characters might seem OOC. They probably are, but it's a personal choice as far as I'm concerned. Feel free to walk away from this if it gets too much. Did I mention a shitload of swearing? Yeah, there's that.

This is an AU following Dumbledore's death. I also don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes you find. I do proofread, but some of them evade me.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I earn nothing out of this and I never will.

I think this covers everything. Thanks for reading!

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><p>The hallway was once more bathed in furious light, slightly blinding the girl. The storm had been raging for two nights already and it showed little sign of stopping anytime soon. Unlike her peers, Hermione welcomed the thunders and allowed this fierce explosion of nature to help relieve her anger. For she was seething. She had been for quite some time now and it showed just how frustrated she was when a sudden movement of her hand made the window slam shut.<p>

"Bloody second years and their puberty hormones!" she muttered under her breath. "I don't see how it's not already freezing in this castle. Why the hell would you leave the windows open?"

Taking a right, she recognised the familiar hallway. It was a wonder she was able to walk down the narrow maze-like paths in Hogwarts and not shiver with bad memories. All the hunger, the fighting, the horrors this castle saw – that she saw – and still she stood, just like the ancient school, facing the storm.

Her determination was clearly etched in the frown she was wearing. Admittedly, she was civil towards the returning Slytherins, but that didn't mean she had any right to barge in and make herself at home. Her plan was set in stone, however, so she marched down and took another left, rapidly approaching her destination.

The civil part was an easy road to take, after being faced with a horde of disgruntled snakes hiding in the darkness outside the Burrow. Snape was tremendously helpful with that, she found out. They were interrogated and made to take Oaths before being given protection in return for information. While many stayed true to their House colours and refused to show the bravery of actual fighting in the war, others, such as Zabini, Malfoy and Parkinson, were surprisingly active. Sharing a room with the not-so-pug-faced girl for a whole month helped bury the multiple hatchets that hung above their heads. She supposed sharing soap and a hairbrush with one another helped with these things. Presently, she saw Pansy for lunch every weekend, catching up on gossip and complaining about everything. In public, they remained acquaintances to make everything easier.

The other Slytherins were sent to France in hiding with some students from the other houses; Nott, the Greengrass sisters, as well as Hannah Abbot, the Parvati sisters took temporary residence in Normandy.

Life was supposed to be easy, they all thought once they returned. Most of the Death Eater parents were sent to Azkaban or kept on house arrest and Hermione found in time that as painful as it was, the Slytherins were happy with their choices. Most of them lost big parts of their inheritances, but in their words, it was the better life to have, free of charges and starting off on neutral ground.

She stopped in front of the wall and channelled Malfoy's voice in her head. Walking back and forth and concentrating on a singular thought, the blasted door finally appeared. She grabbed the handle and turned it to enter the gathering she knew was taking place.

As soon as the door clicked behind her, Hermione had a wandless shield up, protecting her from any wild hex that could have come from any of the several wands lifted towards her.

"Put those away, you idiots, I'm not here to start a fight." All seven people sitting around a large table did accordingly and regarded her with inquiring expressions. "Good evening," she said and let go of her shield before walking over to the Firewhiskey bottle and pouring herself a glass.

"Granger," Malfoy said. "Can we help you?"

She looked up, a dirty expression plastered on her face. "I'm actually here for the food... Yes, you can help me!" she snapped.

The blond man stood and pulled her a chair, while the table automatically enlarged to receive her. She smirked at the contents on the table and reached into her bra to pull out a pouch of gold. "I want in," she said, nodding to the chips and cards on the table.

"You can play poker, Hermione?" Blaise asked.

"I'm more surprised you do, to be honest," she replied and took a seat, promptly crossing her legs and sipping her drink.

Nott dealt the cards and soon they were well into the game, with Hermione actually winning. She enjoyed her luck and disregarded their curious looks. It was clear they were not expecting that. Two hours later, it was down to her and Malfoy, going head to head.

"How did you know we were in here?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"I'm Head Girl, you ignorant fool. I know everything that moves in this castle."

With an eye roll, Malfoy asked another question. "But how did you guess my thoughts?"

She forced the smart-ass in her brain to correct his phrasing and instead smirked, looking him in the eye. "I've spent enough time with you for recon to know how you think."

Hermione was well aware that all she had to do to win this one was to keep her bluff face in check. It would mean to beat a master of hiding his emotions but she was confident. She started with a regular bet, calling his raise and pretending to be devastated by the turn. The river came through and she faked a moderately happy reaction, making it seem she was happy for two pairs. The end brought her win, narrowly beating his full house with a four of a kind.

Malfoy was a sore loser, but even he could appreciate a good game. Hermione relaxed and smirked at the Slytherin. "I need your help," she repeated her earlier statement. At his raised eyebrow, she looked around to see mirrored expressions on the others' faces. Goldstein nodded to make her continue her speech. "She needs to be gone and it needs to happen soon. I cannot stand to see her until the end of this year."

They all knew who she was talking about. The tall, lanky, hideous pathetic excuse of a woman who was the longer version of Umbridge, just as horrendous, working as Headmistress and DADA professor. She was brought in by Shacklebolt at the beginning of the school year; while everyone wondered why he had done so and in turn overstepping McGonagall's authority, there was no space for disgruntle. The first week of such actions brought upon a record number of detentions: more than half of the students were forced to do menial tasks for the entire weekend. They learned to adapt and keep their mouths shut, but for adults who have just escaped the tyranny of a maniac Dark Wizard, being reduced to silence was unbearable. Kingsley confided in Hermione some time after Umberta Freebirch's appointment that he was forced by the Wizengamot to do so, in order to avoid a Dumbledore-like situation. He was grudgingly proud of Hermione's choice of swearing.

Malfoy regarded the woman with half lidded eyes, weighing his choices. He knew that she was right, but at the same time, there was a lot at stake. They might have emerged legally unscathed from the war, but there would always be a dark shadow hanging above their heads; they would always be in the authorities' eyes as potential criminals, especially with the return of the old system. Short of being safe from Voldemort, everything was exactly the same, legally wise. It was something the visionary in him wished he could change, but he was not the type to start a revolution. Hermione Granger, on the other hand, was the perfect face, had the perfect personality and would do it. He just had to figure out how to manipulate her into thinking it was her own decision. Somehow, after the game she just won, he suspected it would be harder than he originally thought. A weekend at the Manor, and a lengthy talk with a reformed Lucius was needed. He mentally made plans to accomplish it. Turning to the task at hand, he nodded at Hermione and within a moment shattered her hopes.

"I'm sorry Granger," he started, "but we're not ready for that commitment yet. I'm afraid you're alone on this one."

She sighed. If she was being honest, she expected that to happen. She couldn't blame Malfoy or the ones he spoke for. Parkinson was a decent human being and she could manipulate the living soul out of someone, but unless there was a potential marriage involved, she could not be arsed. The same could be said about the other Slytherins. They had just got their footing back in the Wizarding world; and while Hermione didn't have much to lose, other than some of her reputation, all of the others could be seriously endangered.

"I understand. Thank you for considering it." She stood and downed her third drink. "Oh, and thanks for the game, guys." She wandlessly gathered her money in the pouch and grabbed it before heading to the door.

"Granger," Malfoy called. "10 pm next Friday?"

She smirked. "Of course."

Walking back to her room, she pondered what little options she had. With a heavy sigh, for what seemed the hundredth time that evening, she decided to lay low for a while and come up with a different plan. It surprised her how much she relied on the Slytherins for support. With Harry and Ron tucked away in Auror training and Ginny training for Quiddith literally every second she could spare, Hermione found herself short of allies. It was vaguely disconcerting, but she was a grown woman and could sort her own shit out.

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><p>"Stupid fucking bitch! I wish I could grab her disgustingly lifeless hair and smash her head in that fucking desk she's so fond of!" Hermione yelled in the empty classroom. It was dinner time and she knew it would be long before she would calm herself. "How <em>dare<em> she fucking criticise my wand work? How _dare _she refer to Dean's Forest? How _dare _ she fucking walk these halls and act all mighty when her sorry arse was shaking in fear in the States? Stupid! Fucking! Bitch!"

She emphasised her every word with a slam on the table in between her pacing. Indeed, she had promised herself that it would take much more than that to trigger half the reaction she was currently having. Easier said than done, as usual. Ginny looked up from her bag and frowned.

"I know you're angry, babe, but maybe you should have something to eat and try to calm down. Surely it's not healthy to be this angry."

"Oh, fuck off you cow," Hermione said, not fully intending it.

"Well excuse me for wanting to help you, you fucking bitch," Ginny replied with a smile.

This sort of relationship was why Hermione appreciated making it out of the war alive. This natural believable behaviour made her grateful. She waved her hand in dismissal, causing a chair to fly and smash the blackboard.

"Control yourself you rabid whore," Ginny said laughing, before leaving her friend to calm down alone.

"Indeed, Miss Granger. There is no reason to destroy school property," a rich voice stated, an amused tone to it.

The girl sighed. "Not now Severus, I'm busy throwing a bitchfit."

"_Professor Snape_," he said. "And can you tell me why in Merlin's name you're angry _now_?"

She figured she deserved that reproach; her temper took a turn for the not necessarily worse: more vocal and peppered with swear words. The times called for it and she was enough of a lady to restrict sailor speech to certain circles.

"The ridiculous hag is driving me up the wall, _Severus_. She had the guts to criticise my war choices and how I handled things in Dean's Forest."

Snape's jaw tightened and he shut his eyes briefly to calm down. It was one thing to accept that people would criticise his friend, but a different thing altogether to be that stupid. He thanked all the deities that Hermione still had enough common sense not to outright hex her. It would be a bitch to cover that up.

"Ah, yes. The lovely Madam Free_bitch_," he finally said, "and the humongous foot she likes to have in her mouth."

"I'd like to shove mine down her throat so far she could digest it."

"That's disturbing even for you, Hermione. Come on," he beckoned, an extended arm waiting, "let's take you to dinner."

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><p>Hexell xx<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Meals in the Great Hall were a completely different affair after the war. That was one thing even the new Headmistress and all her positively ancient friends in the Wizengamot could not change. The Houses tables were replaced with summonable extendable round tables, suitable for any group that wished to sit together to have their meals. It made for interesting conversations and it helped everyone relax after a long day. This was one of the main reason that inter-house unity was this successful so soon after a war that divided everyone.

Snape walked by the girl's side (for in his eyes she was and always will be a 'girl') and led her to a newly summoned table to the side of the large room. She was starting to calm down and decided for a wine that would go with her beef steak. By this point, she was basically asking for it. Snape sighed, knowing what was to come. The fact that he was dining with her didn't surprise anyone. It was common occurrence for professors to mingle with the students – with the ostentatious few exceptions.

Hermione wondered for the millionth time if the new pain in the arse was actually Umbridge who had had extensive plastic surgery done, to be sure no magical being would recognise her. Impossible as it was, with the latter stuck twelve hours a day pushing papers in the Ministry, it still baffled Hermione to hear a familiar annoying cough behind her. When she turned around, her smile was so fake, a blind person could have seen it for what it was.

"Good evening, would you like to join us?" the girl asked, her voice caring.

"You know my position in this school doesn't allow me that, Miss Granger," Freebirch replied tersely.

"Ah, yes," Hermione concluded, using Snape's earlier condescending tone, "my apologies. Is there something I can help you with?" she asked, delicately wiping the corners of her mouth.

The woman pointed to the half full wine glass and added disgustingly sweet, "You are not allowed to drink alcohol in this institution, Miss Granger."

Hermione nodded understandingly. "As Head Girl, I obtain additional rights that entitle me to a bottle of my choice of alcoholic beverage every month. Rule 3917 established in 1403, surely you remember Madam?" she added with a smile.

"_Professor Freebirch,_" she corrected with a frown."And I can revoke your title and effectively solve this tiny problem, don't you think?"

By this point, all students and professors alike were openly watching the exchange, mentally rooting for their Head Girl.

"You actually can't, _Madam_. According to the Founders' regulations, once a person is given a Head Boy or Girl title, it is rightfully theirs until the end of their academic year. Short of their death or criminal charges resulting in incarceration or worse, they hold the title. Bound with their magic."

McGonagall coughed loudly to hide her laughter. Freebirch was not as amused and with an ample move of her hand – completely pointless after all –, she nearly screeched, "Detention tomorrow night!"

Hermione sighed, pretending to be affected. She took a sip of her wine and pulled out an elegant leather bound diary. Scanning it, she looked up at the Headmistress. "I'm afraid we'll have to reschedule. I've got a crucial meeting with the Prefects. How's Sunday? No, wait, I have to be at the Ministry to oversee the transport of abused House Elves. Is Monday good for you?"

Hermione was certain that the older woman would try to physically hurt her. "You ungrateful little ignorant chit! I'll see you for detention tonight at 9 pm!"

Snape's authoritative voice addressed the woman for the first time that evening. "Miss Granger has already secured detention with me tonight, I fear."

Turning to the man, she almost yelled, "What for?"

Unmoved, Snape replied, "Disrupting my dinner."

"Terribly sorry, Madam," Hermione addressed her once again, "I will let you know as soon as I'm available to serve my punishment."  
>Turning on her heels, Freebirch left the Hall, mumbling all the way to the door. As soon as the echo of the door slamming died down, cheers erupted among the diners. Snape gave her a small round of applause to which she responded with a daring smirk and a raise of her glass.<p>

"Thank you, I'm here all week," she laughed at her fellow students.

McGonagall joined the pair, patting Hermione's shoulder. "Oh, how I'll miss you when this year is over, my darling."

"I am positive you will need a new Transfiguration professor, Minerva. I am also certain I can persuade the Ministry to speed up my apprenticeship."

With an eyebrow raised in confusion, McGonagall's Scottish accent was heavier than usual when she spoke. "I am not planning on dying anytime soon."

"That will not be necessary. You will just be otherwise busy with running this place."

The older woman's expression turned to shock and looked at Snape for support. "You don't plan on _killing_ her, do you?"

Snape snorted and kept to his dessert. Hermione waved the idea away. "Please! Severus would torture me for bringing that disaster to him; he would have to cover it up and Merlin knows it would be such a chore!"

The Transfiguration professor sighed with relief and Hermione wondered briefly if people thought she would actually turn to murder just to relieve the world of the pain that was Umberta Freebirch. "There is a long way to go and I would like to not have to think about it now." The fact that there was no solid plan in her head was starting to be bothersome; there was nothing to look to for guidance, nothing to repeat over and over just to drain strength from it.

* * *

><p>"Were you serious about the apprenticeship?" Snape asked her later, when they were sitting next to the fireplace in his office.<p>

With a heavy sigh, she answered. "I suppose. It's a difficult decision to take and it's not like the future holds what we all thought it would. The simple fact that I have to resort to hiding in my Potion professor's office says a lot."

"It also shows that some things have changed for the better if you are here. I am someone you now call friend and whom you can trust to help."

"Fair. I cannot be working in the Ministry, no matter what job I would take. The endless bureaucratic ancient system would drive me insane. Short of being an Auror, something I am not even remotely considering and working in the Department of Mysteries – again, something I would hate more than love –, there is not one single creative job in the entire place."

"Have you considered becoming a Healer?" he asked, trying to give her all the options.

"I've thought about it, but I've seen enough blood and pus in the kitchen of Grimmauld place to last me for another decade or so," she explained. "Teaching I can work with, because it allows me to be creative, boss people around and explain things. "

Nodding, he wondered aloud, "Why Transfiguration? Why not DADA?"

"I never actually said I would take up the Transfiguration post, did I?" she concluded, smirking, "I've had a registered apprenticeship with the Ministry since the end of my sixth year. They are so unbelievably slow and lazy and idiotic that they will never check the status of that contract and how the lessons were conducted."

"Who is it signed with?"

"Moody. He pushed me to do it, saying it will come in handy at some point. I'd rather not add 'seer' to his qualities."

He rolled his eyes. "So it will officially be over this summer, right?"

"Yes. I will have to take their exam, something I could have done back when I signed up for it. I'll also mention war caused delays in physical lessons but I will produce an impressive array of documentation no one will ever read to prove my studies."

He raised his glass of Firewhiskey and smiled. "I'm most impressed, witch. I have to say, I would not have guessed you will come so far in terms of deviance."

She scrunched her nose and snickered. "I should bloody hope so; there would be no surprise in it otherwise."

* * *

><p>The tensions ran high in the two weeks before Christmas. Endless papers to write and endless hours to spend researching and memorising took their toll. The fact that they all lobbied for a Halloween celebration and were denied pushed them all even further in their hate for their Headmistress.<p>

Much like she had done in their fifth year, under the reign of terror from Umbridge, Hermione was spending all her free time trying to find ways to ease the pain and discomfort of her fellow students. Snape noted that she would make a great professor and she just smiled in return, uncertain of her future. She doubted she could refrain much longer from killing the stupid bitch and that would not help her in her search of a job. Yes, she was a war hero, but even that couldn't get her out of a murder accusation. Besides, death would be too tragic and boring and not nearly what the woman deserved.

The night before the winter holiday, on a cold and vicious night, Hermione found herself in the warm and cosy Room of Requirement, nursing a mug of her special whiskey enhanced tea. She was enjoying the comfortable silence she shared Zabini as they waited for their other players to join the now regular game of poker.

War made her testy and anxious, so when the door was violently slammed open and resonated harshly in the room, she was up and wand at ready. The deep scowl on Malfoy's face greeted her and she lowered her wand and raised an eyebrow.

"That stupid bitch!"

That was all Hermione needed; she quickly poured Slytherin a glass of whiskey and waited impatiently for an explanation. She opened her mouth to ask him about it when he started talking.

"I had to sit in her office for half an hour and endure her squeaky voice telling me how I am a disappointment, how she didn't expect me to associate myself with the likes of you and how I am, in essence, a disgrace to my family. She told me _our_ breed should not fall from the high pedestal we were put by nature."

Hermione was livid. She had not felt this angry in a long time and her hand grabbed her wand so tight, she was momentarily scared it would snap it. "How –"

"She said my father was disappointed, she said my mother was beyond herself –"

"Your father's on house arrest for an indefinite period! How the fuck can she say that when she doesn't even know –"

"I know! I know, alright? She might have been to see him but even then –"

"Draco, your father's too much of a private person and entirely too loyal to his family to discuss this with a Ministry appointed Headmistress," Blaise interrupted. "He wouldn't say anything even if he thought it."

They were quiet for a while, each caught in their thoughts. Hermione stood up and walked a few feet before making a chair explode with a nonverbal spell. She turned around and silently dared them to say anything.

"She told me to think about it over the holiday," Malfoy stated and then looked up, a determined look on his face. "I already have. She needs to be stopped. Anything you need Granger - we'll do it."


	3. Chapter 3

She was contemplating going to the Burrow to spend Christmas but it was too loud for her to concentrate on anything and it would mean constantly spelling the rooms to be sound proof and having to interact and it was just too much of a bother. It hit her as a problem that she had no plans only when she found herself on the platform at King's Cross.

"Granger?" Malfoy approached her.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing still here?" There were fewer and fewer people around.

"Oh, I…" she started and thought it was very silly of her. They were in this grand scheme (that had yet to take shape) together so she could be honest with him. "I just realised I don't know where to spend my holiday. I was so busy with thinking about the plan it somehow slipped my mind. I'll grab a room in London and just stay there, I think."

"Nonsense!" he exclaimed and grabbed her arm. "You're spending Christmas at the Manor." He started pulling her away from the platform when he felt her oppose. "What?"

"Malfoy, your parents won't want me there – Hell, I can't even face your dad without thinking he wants me to be bound and whipped or something."

The Slytherin laughed and pulled her again. "He probably does, but not for what you think. I always thought he had a bit of a fetish, really."

"Brilliant, thanks mate. Now I can't look at him at all."

"Come on Granger, they'll be delighted I have friends who can read. They know all about you anyway, I wrote to them these past couple of months."

She allowed him to guide her, trying not to look too pleased at his kindness and unexpected use of the term 'friend'. Once they reached a secluded area, he Apparated them both in front of the gate.

"I'm sorry about that, Granger. The wards don't recongnise you."

"No worries, Malfoy." She spelled both their trunks to levitate behind them as they made their way through the miserable weather.

The Malfoy Manor was impressive, tall and with a distinct Victorian feeling to it. She knew it was in fact much older than that, but once she stepped in, she couldn't help but be very drawn to all the elegant yet cosy decorations. As soon as the door closed behind them, a well groomed happy elf approached them and took a bow.

"Master Draco is back! The parents and elves are very happy, Sir!"

The Slytherin smiled back and nodded to the girl he was with. "My friend will join us for the holidays, can you please let Mother know –"

"Draco, my sweet child!" The sweet voice interrupted. "You're finally home!"

"Never mind, Trickle, I see she found out already. Hello, Mother, it's good to see you." He stepped into the tall blonde woman's embrace, content to finally be home.

"I see you brought a friend," she said.

Hermione stepped forward, suppressing her nerves. She had faced the horrors of war, this was nothing in comparison. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Malfoy. I'm Hermione Granger. I'm very sorry to impose, Mal – Draco assured me it wouldn't be a problem. It's not too late to make other plans, I –"

"Don't be silly, dear! It's a pleasure to have you here. Lucius should be down soon, he had a surprise Floo call he had to attend to."

"Thank you very much, Ma'am."

"Please call me Narcissa, dear girl. It's so rare we have the good type of guests these days. Come on, let's go sit."

She led them through a wide corridor to a warm parlour and called for tea before informing the elves there would be another guest tonight. She turned around to start the usual small talk when Lucius entered the room, a scowl on his face.

"That annoying woman will be the death of me before I can even leave the grounds again!" He stopped short when he saw them all and calmed himself. "I apologise, I wasn't aware we had company. Welcome home, son," he said and walked to Draco to pull him into a hug.

Hermione knew there was a lot that transpired between the two Malfoy men and she was happy to see they were at least acting like their relationship was on the mend. She stood once the older man let go and again had to swallow her nervousness. "Mr. Malfoy. I'm Hermione Granger, a… recent friend of your son. I'm sorry to impose and I apologise for the lack of notice, Draco convinced me it was alright for me to join you for the holidays."

"A pleasure, Miss Granger. As I'm sure my wife mentioned, it isn't a problem. Please call me Lucius – you are spending the next two weeks with us after all."

"Thank you, Sir. Lucius. Do call me Hermione, then; the formality makes me think of Hogwarts and if that was a good thing I would be there for Christmas - no offence."

"None taken, I can see your point." He sat next to his wife and looked at both of them expectantly.

Hermione thought she understood so she looked around and tried to figure a way to offer the family some sort of privacy. "I can leave you to talk, I don't want to intrude on your reunion; if I could just be shown to a room," she started.

"No, no, dear girl, we are just very surprised to see the two of you close enough to spend the holidays together."

"My parents… I wiped their memories last year - they are unaware they have a daughter and I am planning to leave it at that. There's no point in ruining their lives again." The clarity in her voice showed none of the pain she felt, but she knew everyone could tell. It was a loss almost as big as their death.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Hermione. I'm sorry you had to… go through that," Lucius said, a sort of vulnerable look on his face. "I understand how this can be hard for you, my dear. I was on the other side of the war, at least for most of it and you now have to share –"

"Think and speak nothing of it, Lucius." She was mature enough for this; this was what surviving the war meant to her as a person: moving on. "The past is the past and the kindness you show me today is proof of that." She smiled.

The gratitude on the man's face could have been false, but at that moment she was content some form of it existed. "Thank you," he said. "I was told of your qualities, Hermione. It pleases me to see I was not lied to." The small aspect of witnessing her power in battle remained unsaid. "Now tell me, how is Hogwarts treating you both?"

Draco was given the floor and he sighed deeply before explaining that he just wanted to enjoy his first night home and would talk about it at a later time. Hermione couldn't tell if it was because he felt self-conscious complaining to his father without having a solution or he was speaking the truth and really didn't want to bring it up just yet.

–

They were sat for dinner when Trickle walked in and announced the last guest to join them for the night. The Gryffindor's heart skipped a beat, nerves taking the best out of her again; for all she knew it could have been any of the 'reformed' Death Eaters and her mind was reeling with finding an escape route.

"I'm sorry I'm late," the rich voice started, "the bloody harpy wouldn't shut up!"

"Severus!" Hermione exclaimed, genuinely surprised. It occurred to her what Moody was going through after a lifetime of hardships and combat action. She made a mental note to not judge him so harshly the next time.

"Glad you could make it, I was beginning to wonder," Narcissa said. "Have a seat."

The professor seemed to finally notice her and raised a questioning eyebrow. "I could have sworn you were spending the Christmas with anybody else but the Malfoys, Hermione."

"Yeah, what can I say? The offer was too tempting… You of all people know what the holidays with the Weasleys are. And you know of my family situation. Hence… It's a Malfoy Christmas for me," she finished with a smile.

He nodded and they all started on their dinner. To Hermione, dining and spending time with someone other than her otherwise lovely friends was a new experience and she categorised it along those things that would prove she was a grown up. Yes, she enjoyed the laid back, no expectations attitude that came with a large family and a small dining room, but she would be a hypocrite not to appreciate the quality, informal-yet-adult meal time she was having at the Manor. The Malfoys were excellent hosts and she knew it would be a really good holiday.

"Have you complained about the poor excuse of a witch that is our lovely Headmistress yet, Hermione?" Snape asked.

"I was giving Lucius and Narcissa time to get accustomed to my presence in their lovely home before embarking on a tirade – you ruined that, apparently." She smirked at the man.

"Oh, dear girl, do try to make yourself at home," Narcissa insisted. "If that involves a possibly amusing fit, then by all means, go ahead."

Draco sighed. "I know Hermione seams all nice and cuddly and rose-like delicate, but believe me Mother, she is a rather vicious formidable preacher."

"Hermione," the girl emphasised rather testily, "is sitting right here, dearest misled Draco. But yes, you are correct; I reckon that had I had the chance to talk to Lucius during the war, I could have swayed his strong opinions," she joked.

They left it at that though – the dinner was a comfortable event and neither person involved wanted to ruin it with talk of nasty affairs. Snape had to return to the castle and did so with the strong promise of attending dinners at the Manor. Hermione, on the other hand, had a lot of thinking and if she was lucky, resting to do so she excused herself and welcomed Narcissa to lead her to her room. The invitation for some much needed girl talk was left hanging – the older woman was experienced enough to know that it existed.

Draco joined his father in the study and sat down heavily in a chair, silently accepting the glass of scotch he was given. There was no way to go round with this, and if he was honest, he didn't want to, not with his father. The days when he would try to outsmart and con his parent were gone. So he came out with it.

"I want to discreetly help her and then use her." There, he said it.

Lucius nodded. "Very well. I'm afraid I'll need more than that. Use her as in… personal pleasure? A need, perhaps? Is that why you invited her along?" The man knew better than to come to conclusions too soon, but he couldn't help – and would want to, not from his son, not anymore – the tinge of irritation in his voice. They had just decided to try to give up the old poisonous ways, this did not bode well.

Draco, on the other hand, looked appalled. "No, Father! Does she come across as the type of woman one could simply use and leave? She would had me tied up and bleeding before I even thought about it." He took a sip of his drink and mulled over his next words. "No… Perhaps 'use' is too strong a word. There is a master plan we – no, _she _– is brewing, regarding our horrendous Headmistress. In return, I want to try and manipulate her into some sort of a… revolutionary movement?" When he finished, he could hear Lucius's mind working.

"I see," was all his Father said for a while. "Well, son," he continued with a smirk, "good luck with that. As you said, she is not one to be played and deceived."

"That's all you have to say? No encouraging words, no help with my plan? No enquiries? I'm kind of disappointed, Father."

"Don't be. I will fully support you in anything you want to do, you know that." He wanted to go as far as saying that if his Pureblood only son would want to marry his newest friend, he wouldn't oppose, but it was too much, too soon, and unrelated. "You will, however, come to realise that she is a bigger asset to you as a partner, not a pawn. I doubt she could ever be a pawn."

The younger man nodded. "I know what you mean. If she was in Potter's place, there's no way Dumbledore could have done to her what he did to him."

"For the sake of this conversation, what movement are you planning to shepherd Hermione Granger into, son?"

"Oh, just a bit of overturning the legislation and possibly convince a few people to resign from their jobs. You know, the usual," Draco joked.

"I see," Lucius repeated. "I think it's a splendid idea, see that you succeed. I will, of course, help you as much as I can. I may be bound to the Manor but I still have so much dirt over so many people."

Draco could only be happy he was his father's son.


End file.
